Imagine trying to findyour way to a particular merchant through the warren-like streets of a rapidly

expanding 17th-century London, long before the advent of house numbering. A slow and frustrating task until an astute businessman hit upon the idea of producing cards, printed by woodcut or letterpress, explaining

his location. This early form of advertising quickly proliferated as printing methods developed, reaching its heyday after 1870 when affordable colour lithography brought the production of trade cards within the reach

of businesses, large and small. The cards advertised food, tobacco, clothing, medicines – anything in fact

needed around the home or farm. They were handed out in the street, mailed or put into the bag with your shop purchases. Collecting and pasting them into scrapbooks became a hugely popular pastime.

There were two types of card. Most common were the generic – often sentimental or amusing – scenes including children, animals or flowers that appealed to Victorian tastes. The back or a panel on the front of

the card would be blank to allow the advertiser to stamp his details. Some companies, however, had their

cards custom-made, usually picturing their product. This form of advertising was enthusiastically adopted by the manufacturers of sewing requisites and particularly by the Singer Manufacturing Company.

In 1850 Isaac Merritt Singer devised the first treadle-operated sewing machine with an up and down needle action – a great improvement over the existing circular action machines. Three years later they were

being manufactured in New York City, and by 1855 Singer had become the world's first international

company, with an operation in Paris. Over the next 50 years factories were set up in Brazil, Scotland, Russia, Austria, Prussia and Canada, as well as in several more locations across the US. In 1870 Singer's famous

trademark appeared, featuring a young lady seated at her machine, entwined by a giant red 'S'. The design had to be altered in Russia because there is no letter in the form of 'S' in the

Cyrillic alphabet. Cyrillic 'Z' had to be used instead. By 1890 Singer claimed

an 80% share in the sales of sewing machines worldwide. It set up a vast network of local agents and salesmen, and instruction manuals were

“Singer sewing machines could be found even in homes of modest means” 􏰇

produced in 54 languages. Singer sewing machines could be found even in homes of modest means, made attainable by Singer’s innovative policy of

allowing customers to pay for their machine in easy instalments.

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Grégoire Philipidhis

If Selvedge readers boycotted their tumble-dryer for three months this summer we could collectively save one thousand tonnes of C02; enough to fill 150,000 double-decker buses.

We want you to turn off your tumble-dryer. It might seem like a lot to ask but the advantages

are clear. An electric tumble-dryer is one of the

largest energy consuming devices in the home, accounting for a massive 4.9% of the UK's entire

domestic electricity consumption. Textiles have a poor record when it comes to

environmental damage. The water consumption and

chemical pollution associated with crops such as cotton are staggeringly high. Yet because this

production feels removed from our consumer experience it remains relatively easy to ignore. What

we can take control of is the environmental impact of

our clothes and household linens after purchase. And if you think that impact is small you would

be very much mistaken. Kate Fletcher, author of Sustainable Fashion and Textiles explains, “even

though the typical garment is only washed and dried

around 20 times in its life, most of its environmental impact comes from laundering... not from producing

the fabric”. Tumble-drying accounts for 60% of the energy used during this period. Changing our

laundry-drying habits could be one of the most

significant, and easiest contributions we can make. According to the Energy Saving Trust, if all

Selvedge readers commit to line-drying their laundry for half the year rather than using a

£493,000 off the nation’s annual domestic energy bills – enough to pay the energy costs for

400 UK homes.

Fact 1: More than 40% of UK households use a tumble-dryer Fact 2: Almost 1 million dryers are sold every year. Fact 3: Tumble-dryers account for 4.9% of the UK's entire domestic electricity consumption Fact 4: If all households with a tumble-dryer dried one laundry load on a washing line each week, instead of by machine, they would save over 750,000 tonnes of CO2in a year.

Register your decision to turn off your tumble-dryer and share tips, advice and suggestions with other Selvedge readers at www.selvedge.org/blog

In the UK one of the most commonly cited reasons for shunning our washing lines is the inclement British

weather. In fact good drying weather relies on wind

rather than hot sunshine so you can hang out even on an overcast day if there is a breeze.

Of course there are days when using an outside line just won’t work and many urban dwellers lack outside

space. Laundry draped over radiators is a rather

undesirable look and is inefficient too, so what are the alternatives? Revive the use of a ceiling airer. These

attractive functional objects make full use of the warm air that rises in our homes, floor-standing or wall-mounted

dryers work equally well.

If you make a commitment to natural drying you will reap the benefits. The most obvious one is financial as

your energy costs will be reduced, but there are other subtle gains to be made. Your clothes will last longer

(the lint you empty from your tumble-dryer is actually

lost fibres from your clothing) and the chances of accidentally ruining your favourite jumper are remote.

By shifting our perspective and trying to enjoy life’s simpler tasks we can increase our sense of satisfaction.

After all no fabric softener can compete with the smell

of line-dried laundry and it’s worth taking a moment to relish it. More than this, drying your laundry outside

gets you outdoors, physically connecting you with the environment you are helping to protect. ••• Textile Footprint, Textile Forum South West

The ‘discovery’ of Amish quiltsas an art form is relatively recent. Most Amish quilts remained in Amish homes until the 1970s. They were a part of everyday life for generations, reflecting a blend of practical needs with religious practices and the aesthetic preferences of the community. The unworldly community of Old Order Amish families strives to remain separate from its non-Amish neighbours. Efforts at disassociation from the surrounding secular society are evident in their rejection of gas-powered vehicles, electrical power networks and fashionable clothing. Without modern conveniences, the pace of Amish life is slowed and focused on church, family and community. The first Amish families came to the colony of Pennsylvania in America from the Alsace region of the Rhine Valley in the 1730s seeking religious freedom. In 1693 their leader, Joseph Amman, had broken from the Mennonites, a conservative, pacifist Christian religious group with origins in the Protestant Reformation. Their refusal to recognise the authority of the State over the Church led to persecution by civil authorities in Europe but their communities flourished in Pennsylvania. During the 19th century, Amish families followed the western expansion of the United States and founded Amish communities in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Iowa. Although the first Amish quilters in America learned their craft from their non-Amish neighbours, they developed a style of their own. Their religious leaders prescribed solid-colour fabrics for their clothing – printed fabrics were too fancy and prideful – and scraps from these plain clothes became quilts. The pieced patterns they used are varied and based on non-Amish sources, but some, such as Diamond in the Square, Bars, and Sunshine and Shadow have become associated with the Amish.

In the 1970s, collectors began to find Amish quilts in antique shops around Lancaster County, Pennsylvania – the oldest surviving Amish community. The bold, saturated colours and large, simple designs differed from most American quilts but they were not immediately associated with the Amish. The search for their origins revealed an Amish style of quilt-making that seemed to reflect the aesthetics of abstract modern art. The provenance of Lancaster Amish quilts was rarely recorded but some collectors have endeavoured to record their history. David Pottinger began collecting Indiana Amish quilts in 1974 and moved to northern Indiana in 1977 to operate a general store for the Amish. Although some Amish quilts are kept for sentimental reasons, most are made for use and when worn out some are recycled into fillings for comforters or other quilts. When the Amish offered a quilt for sale, Pottinger noted that they were judging it to be “too small, too thin, and too dark to be of much use or beauty”. Despite this Pottinger recognised a rare opportunity to document quilts directly from the maker or the maker's family. He also discovered Illinois-made quilts in Indiana that had travelled between communities as gifts and in the 1980s began collecting quilts from the Amish area around Arthur, Illinois – an Amish community was founded on this fertile prairie in 1865. Today it numbers about 4,200 and is the fourth largest in the US. The Illinois State Museum purchased Pottinger's collection of Amish quilts and is working to preserve and interpret the quilts and the community history they represent. Family histories were checked against genealogical and public records to verify names, dates and relationships. The quilt fabrics, patterns, sizes and construction techniques were analysed.

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Animal magic OBSERVING TAMAR MOGENDORFF IN HER NATURAL HABITAT

A modern menageriefills a room in Brooklyn. Here artist Tamar Mogendorff works day and night on her handmade animals and objects.